Lightning Souls
by Hanana Bread
Summary: Soulmarks are a blessing, a gift from the Old Worlds. Or so everyone says. To Milena, it's a reminder; a prison sentence to tie her down to some Asgardian brute. For her grandmother, it's a bargaining chip and her people's salvation. Pre-Thor. ThorXOC


Lightning Souls

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Soulmarks are a blessing, a gift from the Old Worlds. Or so everyone says. To Milena, it's a reminder; a prison sentence to tie her down to some Asgardian brute. For her grandmother, it's a bargaining chip and her people's salvation. Pre-Thor. ThorXOC

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Chapter 1: Survival and Soulmarks

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Daybreak was over the horizon, signaling the battle was almost at its end.

For Milena, blood-soaked hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sword that was currently shoved deep into the gut of a hapless creature, it couldn't end any sooner.

Channeling her _seindr_ into her right hand, Milena shoved it up and outward, promptly incinerating the rotting beast's head before it could snap at her. Evisceration via sword came after. The cycle continued on and on as more came after her, because the undead came in hordes.

The undead.

Zombies.

Nearly a year of living in this gods-forsaken nightmare, and Milena still couldn't believe this was her life.

Sadly these 'zombies' weren't nearly as slow or mindless as the ones she'd watch in movies. Not the human undead anyway. It was the Aesir and Elven made ones to watch out for. They were fast, strong, and relentless. Coupled with a modicum of intelligence and survival instinct, you could say they weren't mindless. Nevertheless, they responded well to decapitation and pure incineration, so killing them didn't require too much creativity.

And after fighting in the battlefield for days on end, Milena didn't have the energy in her to be any more creative as she dodged wayward spells, arrows, and fell beasts careening through the air to the never-ending soundtrack of war cries, death rattles, and moans. While she may have what Midgardians would say 'inhuman' stamina, even she had her limits. Warrior adrenaline would soon lose out as her energy, her _seindr_ dwindled, as exhaustion began to take its toll.

Milena can't remember the last time she's had a good night's sleep, or three solid meals. She can practically feel her body slowing, and nearly loses her head because of it, if not for the quick swipe of a blade from an allying soldier on horseback. A decapitated heads soars above her and Milena turns her head to her savior in gratitude as his steed halts next to her.

The soldier is young, barely coming out of adolescence. But Milena knows better than to judge, especially when working with humanoid races that live for millennia. He looks at her with purpose, eyes flitting around for surrounding enemies, before addressing her.

" _Milady, the Fire Guard have arrived. It's time to retreat."_ In other words, get the hell out before the whole place goes up in flames.

Milena simply nods her assent, grabbing his offered hand, and taking her place behind him. A resounding horn rings signaling the retreat.

The soldier rides through the chaos with a practiced ease, but Milena can't let herself be calmed as a group of elven undead charge at them. Several magi secure their path, aiming bursts of fire and rock to pursuing enemies. In no time at all, the two of them ride up the low hills, through the break in the ramparts and into friendly territory.

Milena glances back at the battlefield, teeth grating as several more soldiers running for the ramparts were intercepted by hunting undead. Even with her vision blurred at the edges from fatigue, her sight was still sharp enough to see dozens more still far too deep in the heart of the battlefield.

Milena jumps off the horse just as it comes to a halt, and nearly collapses onto the ground as her legs threaten to give out.

" _Milady!"_ Milena shrugs off a well-meaning foot soldier bracing her by the arm, marching toward the edge of the frontline.

She ignores the protest in her core and the ache in her muscles, and instead throw her _seindr_ out through her fingertips. Energy zips through the air in the wispy shape of hummingbirds and fly through the field like errant arrows. The birds whirl through the early morning air, ripping through skulls of the undead as far as she could push them.

The seals on her arms burn, as she pushes the spell to its limits. 10..20..30 yards they go before the spell proves too much and collapse into itself in glittering smoke.

Milena pants heavily and braces herself on her knees, head practically spinning. Its not enough to save everyone, but at the very least she bought some time for several soldiers to make their hasty retreat. Milena could only squish the burgeoning guilt in her gut as she watches the unlucky few fall to the undead, hands outstretched in a plea. She turns away from the scene.

Milena is led back to the safety of the ramparts above the incline as a row of two dozen Fire Guards breeze past her. Forcing herself to remain standing, she watches on as the cowled sorcerers in crimson and gold robes take their positions and begin their chant. Hot fire bursts into life, compressing into itself in midair in the form of a stretching bar.

The undead are advancing faster, this time as a frenzied horde. The chants only grew louder and faster, the fiery barrier growing even hotter that it was practically blue. And just before the first of the beasts could make touchdown, the barrier collapses and takes the form of an inferno wave. The battlefield goes up in flames, along with everything and everyone in it.

Milena could only grimace at the sounds of their tortured screeches amidst the cheering of surviving soldiers and magi. She didn't have it in her to join in with them, what with the images of abandoned soldiers being torched flashing through her mind. So instead she makes a hasty, stumbling retreat to her tent. She still had a bit time before debriefing, and if the higher ups wanted her, they knew where to find her.

Milena navigated through the camp, a mishmash of worn canvas tents and rickety wooden structures on a once flourishing valley. Weary soldiers scramble around the area, but not before giving her a deep bow. Milena ignores all this and steps into her tent, her temporary 'home away from home', she thought wryly. While worn and dusty, she at the least was given the luxury of having it all to herself.

She's grateful for the privacy, because putting on a picture of strength for the troops was all sorts of draining. Despite how screwed up this world has gotten, being a 'kinda princess' and a sorceress specialist gave her some liberties (along with a headache of responsibilities). Milena lets herself collapse onto the ground, and rips off her cowl and clothed mask.

The Fire Guard would finish off what remains of the undead, and win them the battle. But Milena can't help but wonder at what cost? They may have razed a thousand of the undead, but she couldn't help but wonder how many of their own people died along with it. If not in the fire, how about the fighting before that? Their armies weren't infinite, unlike the undead who seem to pop up like weeds no matter how much they scoured, decapitated, or torched.

It's been nearly a year since this whole plague business started, ever since some hapless idiot who took an ill-advised trip to Niflheim stumbled back carrying a long-forgotten disease. What started out as an isolated zombie outbreak later turned into a _freaking_ epidemic in a few short months as healers and magi scholars alike scoured everywhere for a cure. The population, the living one anyway, was now reduced to about a third of what it was years ago.

What were their chances looking like in another year's time?

Milena's watched enough zombie apocalypse movies to guess. She pushes her depressive thoughts aside and instead focuses on the steaming bath awaiting her. One of the liberties given to her, a wooden tub engraved with runes had been placed next to her cot for her. Milena is grateful for this. She's covered in half a week's worth of gunk and guts, bouncing from battlefield to battlefield. There wasn't enough time to enjoy a bath.

Milena strips off the manual way, only because her _seindr_ is much too low to use to disappear her clothes away. So she ignores the aches of her body with each movement, throwing off her armor, boots, and underclothing. Milena finally lowers herself onto the tub with a hiss. The warmth of the water penetrates her achy muscles. The adrenaline of battle has long drifted away, and what remained was bone deep exhaustion.

She'll just shut her eyes for a moment, just to rest and forget.

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Milena's eyes snap open and her body shoots up with a slosh. A girl in a simple frock, barely into her adolescence, jumps and spins to look at her with wide eyes. A bundle of clothing is clutched tightly to her chest. Clearly not a soldier, but instead a village girl pulled from one of the nearby towns to help wherever she could in the camp.

" _Milady- I mean, yo-your highness! I-"_

Milena smiles awkwardly, pulling her legs to her torso. The girl is clearly embarrassed, and Milena can't help but feel the same, being caught dozing off in her bath with her face out in the open. "Milady is fine, Miss.."

"Ama," The girl answers quickly, bending at the waist in a hasty bow. "The-they told me to drop off some clothes for you, Milady."

"Uh," Milena runs her fingers through her short, dark hair before gesturing at her cot. "Just feel free to leave them there."

Milena watches as the girl does so before whirling around to face her once more. Milena props her arm up on the edge of the tub in a half-hearted wave, expecting the girl to leave and be done with it. But instead, Ama stood there and stared. And stared. And stared.

"Um," Milena's brown eyes flitted at the exit with hinting, growing a bit self-conscious under her gaze. But Ama's hazel eyes only grew wider, while her mouth began impersonating a goldfish. Briefly, Milena wondered if her face was that elusive to warrant a response, but that wasn't it. She stares back at the village girl and followed her gaze, only to realize where exactly her eyes were glued to.

Her propped up arm. More specifically the glittering letters on her arm.

Milena's dropped her arm into the tub immediately, smile wiped off her face.

"You-you have a _Soulmark!"_ Ama whispered with sickening reverence. Milena could barely contain her scowl as she quickly got out of the tub and threw on a robe.

"Ama," Milena spoke, roughly tying the robe shut. After all those years of being hidden, her damned glamour spell fails her now!

"That's-That's amazing! No one has seen one before in _millennia_ , and-"

"This _can't_ come out!" Milena barges over, panic welling in her.

"Milady, but the name! _That's-"_ Milena cut Ama short, grasping at her shoulders.

" _Ama_ ," The girl flinched at her harsh tone. Milena felt a wave of guilt but any sense of self-preservation crushed it. "Ama, please. You say nothing. You _saw_ nothing. That's an order."

Milena's brown eyes leveled with Ama's hazel ones. Milena knows that her _siendr_ is seeping out of her skin, making the air oppressive and crackly. There is fear on Ama's face, but it was enough to make her remember she was addressing someone much higher in station. The village girl gives a jerky nod before Milena finally let's go.

Ama bows her head once more, this time with more depth. "Of course, milady. Upon my honor! I-I won't say anything! I promise!"

Milena regards the girl with hard eyes, warring with herself. Ama was a liability, the only living person besides herself that knew of the Soulmark. It was much smarter if she just-

What? Take care of it herself? Bind her tongue into silence? Erase the girl's memories? Kill her? Milena's face curled in disgust. She wasn't that kind of sorcerer nor did she want to be. Staring at the shaking body a scared village girl, Milena knew she couldn't do such a thing to someone so innocent. Really, all she had to go on was honor. But to many people around these parts, honor means everything.

Milena finally sighs. "Alright. Upon your honor."

Ama lifted her head slowly, cautiously. Her eyes could barely hold her gaze, and there was obvious fear in the young girl's face. The familiar feeling of guilt reared its head once more. Milena rubs at her temples, before dismissing her. Ama scurries away hastily, and into the bustling din outside.

Milena slumps onto her cot, wondering how she just managed to screw up one of her most closely guarded secrets. But really, she already knows the answer. Years of being careful around friends, family, servants, comrades and foes alike, and she blows it after a bit of _siendr_ exhaustion and carelessness.

Milena pulls down her right sleeve, staring at the unblemished, tan skin before willing the glamor away for a moment. Golden Asgardian runes manifest itself on her right forearm, glimmering back at her like a tacky tattoo. She almost wishes it was just a tacky tattoo. No, it was much worse than that. It was a Soulmark.

Milena wasn't overtly fond of the idea of Soulmarks; the very idea that the Fates have destined you for another. A Soulmate. Heck, she wasn't a particularly big fan of Fate or Destiny in general, that your decisions and actions aren't your own and you're but a pawn in some Higher being's grand plan.

Milena will admit, once upon a time, when she was thirteen and foolish, found the idea of Soulmates romantic. But life has a way of warping one's perceptions of love, and Milena was no exception.

What was worse, Soulmarks were extremely rare to find in the New World. They were relics of the Old World, before beings from all over Yggdrasil and beyond decided to settle into another Plane. While many customs and practices followed the migrants to this existance, for some reason Soulmarks barely did. Thus, many would go so far as to say it was a blessing. And the fact that she happened to have the crowned prince of Asgard written on her arm? Well, _double_ blessing.

But Milena can't see it that way. Nor does she want another thing marking her as an anomaly. She was already an oddity by New World standards, just by heredity. She doesn't need Soulmates added to the mix, especially with everything gone to shit. And she be damned if she'll let her grandmother cart her off to Asgard like some prized livestock.

Thor Odinson will have to go on with his merry life without her, thank you very much.

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Author's Note:

Hello readers! For any of you who may have read Celestial Bodies and Lightning Souls, I'm sure the similarities are pretty obvious. But this story won't be following the First Thor Movie Plot, and instead focus on the years leading up to it. It will be a slow build up for a while, but the holes will be explained in the later chapters.

Funnily enough, I'm not big on the whole Soulmate trope, but decided to do my version of it.

As for the New World, I'd like to think of it as the Nine Realms version of America New World. So creatures from all over end up settling and establishing their own governments in the same 'realm' or 'plane', and over time developing diverging cultures and custom from their ancestor planet. But more on that later!

Please tell me what you think!


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